


The News Room

by ainagren



Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Kissing, News Media, Nobel Prize
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 03:08:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15921552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ainagren/pseuds/ainagren
Summary: Modern Carolight AU set in the news room of a daily news paper, with Dwight Enys as the medical reporter and Caroline Penvenen as the new Fashion and Beauty Blogger.





	1. New Member of Staff

“Alright, let’s begin, shall we”, mr Pascoe, publisher at the News Today, barks.

The morning routine is the same every day, and the reporters and editors pull their chairs closer to the table in the editorial meeting room. George Warleggan, analyser of the financial section, puts his coffee on the table with a smash, and manages to get some of the hot drops on the back of his hand. He swears quietly, and some of the others chuckle.

“Well, what have we got”, Pascoe begins, while looking down at some documents before him. “George?”

George, still wiping his hand with a paper napkin, clears his throat and puts on his usual look of being important and serious. Dwight Enys, medical reporter, shakes his head and lets the corner of his mouth free to form a smirk. George catches it in a glance and lifts his chin yet a bit further in direction of the ceiling.

“As I was telling you yesterday”, he begins in a high voice.

But before he has the time to finish, the door is opened, and everyone turns their attention towards the person entering. Dwight lifts his eyes, and the surprise makes him forget to turn them away again. He has recognised her immediately, of course. Caroline Penvenen is one of the most well know fashion bloggers in the country, with over a million followers, and she is a real catch for the paper to have contracted as an editor for the new Fashion and Beauty section soon to be launched, combined of course with a plentiful smorgasbord of digital and social media content. Caroline Penvenen is a whole concept of her own, and manages to fit both modelling and some minor acting into her schedule, too.

She enters the room, dressed in a brightly red turtle neck jumper and a pair of tight, black jeans, smiling widely as she zigzags through the crowd of chairs towards a free seat in the corner.

“Please excuse me”, she says with a voice that turns out to be much lower and friendlier than Dwight has expected, “I am usually very punctual and hate when people are late.”

Her smile widens as she looks around at the others, nodding to greet them and to emphasize her excuse, but she doesn’t look a bit sorry for disturbing. Pascoe is half way up from his chair, but can do no more than smile back and point her further back into the room, as he interrupts her.

“Oh, no problem at all, don’t worry. This is just our daily planning meeting, no need for you to join in every day, but it is nice of you to show up and introduce yourself while we’re all gathered.”

He stretches his back, making his crinkled shirt escape from his waistband and show off a glimpse of his white belly, as he scratches his woolly chin.

“We’re all delighted to have you here. As you all know”, he continues, turning towards the gaping crowd in the editorial room, “we have had the luck to sign Caroline up to start our new fashion pages, that will appear weekly on Fridays, to begin with, as of next month. I am sure you all know all about her already” – at this comment there is a muffled giggle among the rest, and some clearings of throats and mumbling – “but I’ll give you the chance to introduce yourself properly, too”, he adds, turning back towards Caroline. “Perhaps you want to do that right now, or should we wait until after we have finished todays talk?”

Caroline has found a seat diagonally behind Dwight and has settled, crossing her legs.

“Do continue, please”, she says. “I did not mean to interrupt you. I’ll introduce myself later, if necessary.”

Laughter again, and glances and some annoyed looks among the others. Dwight swallows, feeling already that this woman is going to annoy the brains out of him with her self-assured ways. He has protested to the management already about the new section, feeling that it will taint the serious image of this newspaper with superficial things, something that the world has more than enough of as it is, in his opinion. He leans his forehead in his hand, sighing. The red colour of Caroline’s top is stinging him in the corner of his eye, and a faint fragrance of her perfume tickles his senses. He pinches his nose, sweeping his hand up through his hair before looking up.

Pascoe is sitting down again and has turned back his attention to George, who is in the middle of explaining something in his most nasal tone of voice, thus giving away the fact that he is less sure of the importance of his subject than he wishes to reveal – only making the bigger fool of himself. Perhaps it is also the presence of the new member of the editorial staff that has this effect on him, Dwight wonders.

He catches the eye of Ross Poldark, sitting across the table, and smirks as he sees his colleague’s face. Ross is never able to disguise what he is thinking, and now he raises one eyebrow to Dwight and is suffocating a chuckle. Between the two of them, George has become a bit of a laughing stock – Dwight is not proud of it, since he wishes to show everyone the same respect, but he can’t help being amused at Ross’ merciless sense of humour that somehow always seems to have the point turned in George’s direction.

This time, however, Ross’ face also betrays his taste for beautiful women, the specimen sitting behind Dwight not excepted. Dwight sighs again. As if it weren’t enough with his former affair with Elizabeth, editor of the feature pages, and his outrageous flirtation with the young redheaded girl who is new in the canteen. Ross surely knows how to appreciate beauty, but seems less skilled in keeping his ladies, Dwight thinks. Not that he himself has much to boast about in this area – his sorry little affair with Keren in the sales department still makes him cringe when he thinks about it, and the fact that it is all the action he has had in the past two years is not amending.

George has finished his rant about the economic forum that he is going to cover, and the latest development on the Stock Exchange, and Pascoe is moving on.

“We don’t have all day for this meeting, and I’m sure you all want to impress our new employee with your skills” – Dwight closes his eyes, sometimes Pascoe is simply unbelievable! – “but we have a newspaper to run, if you remember.”

He, too, obviously wants to show off, Dwight notes to himself.

“So, er, Dwight”, Pascoe mutters without looking up, “what are you working on right now?”

Dwight clears his throat.

“There is the Ebola outbreak in the Kivu province of the Congo, as you all know by now”, he begins. “I’m writing a historical background to be published on the foreign affairs section tomorrow along with the news, and there’s graphic art to go with that text as well, so I’ll have to sit with Rosina, our graphic designer, this afternoon to go through it.”

Pascoe grumbles and scribbles in his papers.

“Good, so that’s for tomorrow”, he says. “And what else?”

“I have started to run back up checks on British medical researchers for the upcoming announcement of this year’s Nobel prize candidates”, Dwight continues. “There are a couple of possible names, pretty much the same as last year, but who knows, this year it might just happen, so I want to get everything updated and ready to print. But that’s not urgent, the nominees will not be announced in yet another month.”

Ross coughs in his hand, and manages to whisper loudly enough for everyone to hear:

“Dwight Enys, king of the meticulous.”

The room giggles, and Ross passes him a triumphant glance. A flush of pink passes Dwight’s cheeks, but he smiles and joins in the glee.

“At your service, sir”, he says and nods politely towards Ross.


	2. Canteen Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwight starts to find Caroline disturbingly interesting.

Dwight has just finished his piece for tomorrow’s edition and sent it off to layout. He had an early deadline today – or, rather, he should have left his text the day before, but got some extra time and could finish it in the morning instead. Now, he has time for a quick lunch before he is off to a conference on medical innovations.

By the front desk a tall blonde woman is standing, smartphone in hand that seems to keep her completely occupied; the new editor of the Fashion and Beauty pages. She has been with the team for a couple of months, now, but she mainly works outside the news room and scarcely visits them. Her pages have appeared a few times by now, and though Dwight is not the least interested in her subjects, he has felt an obligation to read them, only to find out what they contain, and what she is like.

He slows down as he approaches her, and she notices him in time to turn around and give him a vague, half-friendly smile. Dwight nods and hates his ears who start to heat up.

“Hi there”, he says and feels like moron.

“Hiya”, she answers casually.

“So, in for a visit?”

Small talk isn’t his cup of tea, but he feels like he has to make her feel she’s part of the team.

Caroline looks at him with steady eyes that don’t reveal what she is thinking or feeling. Dwight puts his hands in his pockets.

“I have a meeting with Pascoe”, she says.

“Right”, he says and looks away. “So, you don’t want to join us for lunch? We usually just hang in the canteen, those of us who are in and have the time.”

She smiles politely.

“Not today. Thanks anyway.”

Dwight nods again, and scratches his neck. He delays for a few seconds, thinking there ought to be something more he could or should say, but he can’t think of anything at all right now, his mind is numb. Always the same thing around women!

He gives her a last glance and a shy smile before he turns to the door and exits into the stairway.

Caroline turns her face back towards her smartphone. This guy is really cute, but he seems so shy, and everything turns awkward between them whenever they meet. Not that she cares, really. He is just so very different from the people she is used to hanging out with, and definitely another species from the kind of men she is used to going out with. Most of them are straight-forward, proud, self-confident and talkative. And rich, and handsome in a studied and rather aggressive way. This reporter seems to be wholly unaware of his looks and his attraction.

She doesn’t understand him, and he obviously has to make a great effort to even show the slightest politeness towards her. Why should she let such a person move her at all? Well, she won’t! She straightens her neck, takes a deep breath and looks up, just as Pascoe is coming out of the meeting room, and she puts on her professional smile, the one that always works.

* * *

“Hey, Dem, can I have another coffee?” Ross shouts through the noisy lunch room.

Dwight shakes his head.

“Come on, Ross, how hard is it for you to lift your ass and walk over there and fill your cup yourself?” he says. “Can’t you see she’s busy? She’s not your personal house maid!”

Ross chuckles, but his eyes are fixed on the pretty redhead behind the counter. He is holding his coffee cup up high in the air and wiggles it to catch her attention.

The sad thing, in Dwight’s opinion, is that it works. Demelza smiles at them, and Ross winks at her with one eye.

“Will you come to me, baby?” he shouts again.

Dwight blushes.

“Shut it, Ross”, he mutters. “You embarrass the both of us!”

Ross finally turns back towards the table.

“Nah, she likes it”, he says, in his most self-assured way.

Dwight is just about to protest, but as he opens his mouth to do so, he sees Demelza freeing herself from the counter and coming their way, the coffee kettle in her hand, so he just hangs his elbows on the edge of the table and says nothing.

“Well now, good sir”, Demelza says, with a wry smile on her face. “How may I be of service?”

Ross holds up his empty cup towards her.

“You are too kind, madam”, he jokes.

“Yes, you are”, Dwight adds in. “You really shouldn’t do that” he says to Demelza, “it makes him even more impossible.”

Demelza laughs as she pours the coffee, and then turns to Dwight.

“You want some, too?” she asks.

Dwight shakes his head.

“So, Demelza”, Ross starts, “how are you today? What’s going on canteen wise?”

“Oh, same as every day, Ross. And what about you, what’s going on news wise?”

Ross laughs again.

“So much that I don’t have the time to tell you all of it”, he says. “Perhaps I’ll have to take you for dinner to do that.”

“Perhaps you do”, she says, turns on the spot and trots back towards the counter.

Ross follows her with his eyes until she is back, and she looks up and gives him a smile before serving the next customer.

When Ross turns back towards Dwight he has a broad smile on his face. Dwight sighs.

“I don’t know how you do that”, he says.

“What?”

“This … that …Whatever it is you do that makes them like you”, Dwight mumbles.

Ross takes a gulp of coffee.

“I don’t do anything, they just like me as I am”, he says. “What about you, what do you do to make them not like you?”

He chuckles. Dwight shrugs and glances out the window.

“Nothing, they just dislike me as I am”, he mutters.

Ross leans his head back and lets out a guffaw.

“Come on”, he says when he has finished laughing. “It can’t be that bad.”

“Yup, it can”, Dwight says. “By the way, I just bumped into Caroline Penvenen downstairs.”

Ross leans over the table and stares at him.

“You can’t be serious, man”, he says. “Don’t tell me you have a thing for Caroline Penvenen!”

Hating his traitor ears again, Dwight furrows his brow.

“Of course not!” he says, a little too passionately. “It was just a change of subject.”

Ross shakes his head.

“A change of subject from ‘women don’t like me’ to ‘ I just met Caroline Penvenen’”, he says. “Very credible.”

Dwight frowns.

“No, really. It was just a …”

“You can’t have a crush on Caroline, Dwight, and you know it”, Ross says with a serious tone of voice. “Yes, she is gorgeous. Yes, she seems smart enough. But she is so out of your league I can’t even begin to describe it. Do you hear me?”

Dwight pushes his chair back.

“I need to get back down and get my things before I’m off to the conference”, he says. “Are you coming, or will you stay and call out for another coffee?”

There’s a sting in his voice that he can’t help, but he tries to ignore it.

Ross gives him a searching glance, leaning back in his chair and watching Dwight’s moves as he gets up, pushes the chair in, and lifts up his tray to take it to the scullery.

“If I somehow managed to trip on your delicate toes, Dwight, I’m sorry”, he says. “I didn’t mean to. I just meant what I said as a true friend. I don’t want you to get hurt again. It took me ages to get you back to your old self after Keren, remember?”

Dwight clears his throat, trying to manage and hide his anger. Without looking at Ross, he says:

“Fine. Anyway, I’m off. See you.”

His steps echo in the stairway as he is running down the two stairs to the news room. Ross is his best friend, the one who knows him inside out, someone he can always rely on. And yet, he is at times the most obnoxious person Dwight has ever met.

Of course, Dwight himself knows that Caroline is not for him – but to be honest, he feels attracted to her in a way that is disturbing. Yet, to hear from his best friend that he hasn’t got a chance was hurtful. Sometimes he feels that his ears know more about him than his brain. They give him away every time. In his heart, truth is battling hope in a fight that can only lead to casualties.


	3. Pascoe's Proposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A great opportunity is presented.

The room is buzzing of excited voices as Dwight enters the small conference room. Faces are turned towards him, and cheers are being heard.

“Congrats!” “Well done!” “You nailed them!”

He smiles and pulls his jacket a bit, proud and a bit shy at the same time.

“I’m not the one to congratulate, though, as you all very well know”, he says, smiling, and sits down among the others.

“Let’s begin then, shall we”, Pascoe barks as usual, and the voices die away.

Dwight casts a furtive glance towards Caroline. Her blue eyes meet his, and she smiles appreciatingly, warming Dwight’s heart and stretching his own smile even wider. “Well done”, she mimes, and he nods gratefully.

“As you all have heard by now”, Pascoe continues, “the winners of the Nobel Prize in Medicine were presented this morning, and our own medical reporter Enys nailed them! A team of three British scientists will share the prize this year. Dwight, you can explain later what it is they have discovered, it was something to with the immune system I believe – I don’t understand half of it. Thanks to Dwight’s meticulous work” (here he glances at Ross, who chuckles) “we were able to publish the first background articles on the web immediately, and Dwight has had a busy morning waltzing around the morning studios to talk about the whole thing, both in the BBC national radio and the morning tv news, right, Dwight? Did any of you watch or listen to him?”

Dwight nods and again casts a few glances around to the others, who keep cheering and calling out to him and patting his shoulders.

“You did great!” “You looked, great, too!”

He smiles, and can’t resist another look at Caroline, who is still smiling at him, her deep blue eyes wide.

“Thank you, thank you”, he says. “Now, move on, please, Pascoe.”

“Not quite finished yet”, the publisher mutters. “You will also be in the studio tonight for the News at Ten, right? Good. And you have already been in touch with the winners for interviews? Very well.”

He is scribbling something in his notebook before continuing.

“Well, I have decided it’s time we cover the Nobel Prize closer this year, considering we have our very own laureates, and a very good reporter to do the job. Dwight, I want you to go to Stockholm for the ceremony in December. You can make sure to get your accreditation right away and we’ll talk more about it later, alright?”

“Yes, sure”, Dwight says, drumming his fingertips together.

This whole commotion is a bit too much for him, really. He is happy, of course, and he is glad that his work has payed off. Yet, being the center of attention like this is making him feel uncomfortable. And the burning emotion of wanting to catch the eye of a certain member of the team makes him even more embarrassed of himself.

The meeting moves on to other topics. Ross is writing about international affairs, and has a lot to cover these days, with elections in several countries coming up, Brexit running to a halt and international treaties being re-negotiated.

All through it, Dwight keeps glancing back towards Caroline, and now and then, she is looking at him, too. Their smiles have faded, they both look serious, and Dwight’s heart is pounding heavily. But what’s the point of staring like an idiot at her like this every time she shows up, when he still can’t manage more than a few words at a time whenever he has the chance to talk to her?

After the meeting, he strolls back to his desk in the open office and starts checking out accreditation rules, filling out forms and looking at tickets and hotels. The program around the Nobel Prize lasts for the whole week, and he has to find out how many days he will need to be there and what different lectures and functions he will have to attend.

Suddenly, Pascoe and Caroline appear by his side, both of them looking eager and pleased at the same time.

“Enys, do you have a minute?” Pascoe demands, and Dwight looks up at them.

“Sure, what about?”

“Stockholm”, Pascoe says.

Dwight follows them back into the conference room.

“You see”, Pascoe begins, “it turns out our fashion editor has the brilliant notion of covering the Nobel Prize dinner and festivities, to comment on the dresses of all the royalties and celebrities attending. She will be live streaming on her own blog, or vlog or whatever it is, and will have the kindness to let our website use her material, too.”

“Sounds great”, Dwight says, his heart beating furiously.

He looks at Caroline, who is cool as ever and doesn’t condescend to give him the slightest glance.

“Yes, what a team the two of you will make!” Pascoe blurts out. “Now, you make sure to book enough time to cover the whole week, and we will look into your schedule to make sure you’ll have the time you need. If anything must be taken over by someone else in order to arrange this, you just let me know. We will have the best stories of this years’ Nobel Prize in the country!”

Caroline still hasn’t said a word, but Pascoe bangs her back hard a couple of times as if she were a lumberjack, grinning as if he himself had invented the Nobel Prize.

“I’ll leave you two to plan the whole thing, and then you report back to me. I have to be off now, but why don’t you start right away, if you have the time.”

He disappears, the door clicking behind him. Dwight looks at Caroline, shrugs and smiles.

“So, erm … you’re going to Stockholm, too, then?”


	4. A Nice Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwight and Caroline chit chat on the plane.

The London city lights are glittering through the darkness of the December morning as Dwight hurries form the taxi into the airport. He is an experienced traveller, and yet, this time there is a flutter in his stomach. This job trip will be something extra, he knows it. Not least due to the company.

The few times he has had the opportunity to talk to her, Caroline Penvenen has basically teased or ignored him, and he has been tongue-tied and felt like a moron. A couple of times they have had more meaningful exchanges, but her main topics of interest seem to be shallow, and far away from the big questions of justice and human rights that so occupy Dwight’s mind. It is not the perfect match, he knows it, and so he keeps accusing himself for the superficial attraction that he seems to be unable to free himself of, no matter how many times he has been disappointed in the stupid things she has said. From time to time, there have been a glimpse of something else within her, a shadow of depth in those ocean blue eyes, and every time it happens, he is hooked again.

He still doesn’t know if she had planned her trip to the Nobel Prize Banquet before or after Pascoe declared that Dwight was to go – secretly, he hopes that she decided to go because of him. So, ill matched or not, they are going to have a few days in each other’s company, in a foreign city where nobody knows them – notwithstanding, of course, the fact that Caroline has over a million fans and followers and is likely to be recognized wherever she goes.

There is a long line through the security check, and Dwight checks his watch. He is a little bit late, and this seems to take forever. When his hand luggage pops out of the machine, he grabs it and runs away through the crowd. When finally at the gate, he stops and inhales deeply, letting his eyes run through the people waiting there.

“Good morning, Dwight.”

Her soft voice comes from behind him, and he turns around on the spot. She is sitting down, her long legs crossed, and is watching him with a mischievous look.

Soon the gate is opened and they enter together. It is a rather small plane, but it is fully booked, and Dwight and Caroline have their seats next to each other, hers by the window, his by the aisle. The closeness of the confined space feels alluring, and Dwight notices the scent of her perfume and the sensation of his knee touching her leg, sending a thrill through his body. He doesn’t move. Nor does she.

“First time to Stockholm?” he asks as the plane taxis towards take off.

“Uh-huh, and you?”

“Yep, for me, too. But I bet you have travelled a lot, right?”

“I have. And you?”

“Quite a bit. I like it. I love the sense when the plane takes off and you feel like you’re leaving everything behind and enter something new and unknown. If you’re travelling to a place you’ve never been to, that is.”

It is easy to talk when sitting like this, when sharing a unique experience and without all the eyes and ears of the news room around them.

Caroline glances at him through the corner of her eye. Finally, she gets to see the confident side of Dwight, the one he otherwise only shows in the morning meetings when he is talking about what news he is covering at the moment, or when he discusses something with his friends. She feels a little jolt of anticipation, and quickly looks down on her hands in her lap. This is not what she had expected – to fall for a guy like Dwight. He is absolutely not her type, or at least not the type she has been dating before. But his beautiful eyes give away the fact that he is nice, and kind, and cares about real things. He has never asked her a thing about her followers or her publicity stuff. He talks about important and serious things – if indeed he talks at all.

But here comes the take off, and Caroline shuts her eyes and clasps the armrests of her chair.

Dwight notices it, but says nothing until the plane has reached is marching height, the seat belt sign is turned off and Caroline opens her eyes again.

“You alright?” he asks, with a certain tenderness in his voice that warms her.

Caroline nods.

“I’m fine. Sorry about that.”

“No, no reason to apologize”, he says assuredly. “So, you have a bit of a flying fear, do you?”

She inhales.

“I know it’s silly”, she smiles faintly.

“Well, emotions are not always rational”, he says and clears his throat. “Strictly statistically speaking, though, it’s of course a much bigger risk to go by car than by plane. Plane crashes are luckily not very common.”

“I know”, she says again, “but my parents died in one.”

Dwight bites his lip. How does one move on after this? He pauses for a second, and she continues in a lower voice:

“I fly all the time, and still, each time I do, I think of them.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

She puts her hand on his arm, and their eyes meet again.

“It’s alright”, she says, “I don’t mind talking about it. It was a long time ago.”

“How old were you?”

“Eight.”

He inhales, nodding his head a couple of times.

“It must have been … I don’t even know what word to use that won’t sound like a platitude.”

She smiles, her hand still resting on his arm. He looks down at it, feeling an urge to put his own hand on top of hers, to lift it to his lips and kiss it, but it’s of course too familiar, too loving a thing to do, so he just touches it lightly and then folds his hands in his lap again.

“It was”, she says.

“And what happened to you afterwards?”

“I went to live with my Uncle Ray in Cornwall. He has a grand estate there, and I spent my growing up years hiding in dark corners of that big house, or strolling around in the park by myself. He sent me off to a boarding school when I was ten, though, so after that I was only spending Christmases and summer holidays there, basically.”

“Where in Cornwall was that?” Dwight asks with a new curiosity.

“The estate is called Killewarren, if that sounds familiar”, she says. “Do you know Cornwall?”

“Do I know Cornwall?” Dwight blurts out. “I’m from Cornwall!”

“No way!”

“Way!”

She laughs, and Dwight chuckles, too.

“I’m from Sawle, and of course I know of Killewarren. I just never knew about you! But of course, you’re a few years younger than me.”

“Really! That’s just … so weird”, she giggles. “Sawle, I’m sorry to say, is just the most boring little dump of a village to me.”

“Oh, that’s very true, I feel the same”, Dwight smiles. “But I still have a lot of friends there, and many nice memories, so I like to go back whenever I have the opportunity.”

“Does your family still live there?”

“Erm, no”, Dwight says and pinches his nose. “My parents are actually dead, too. My dad in a heart-disease, and my mum got cancer.”

He gives her a quick glance, and sees her smile change into a look of honest concern.

“I’m sorry”, she says in a low voice. “So, we’re both of us orphans, then.”

“We are.”

The air-hostess interrupts their intimacy, and after having ordered their soft drinks (“no alcohol while on duty”, as Pascoe would say) there is a moment of silence between them. Caroline is the one to break it.

“So, how come you ended up in London, then?”

“I went to med school there.”

“Oh, so you really are a doctor?”

He takes a gulp from his glass, and nods.

“Yes, I actually finished my exam and all, but during my studying years I enjoyed working with the university magazine, and I always loved to write, since I was a kid. So, I was told journalists nowadays need to have a special knowledge of their field in order to report correctly about it, and I thought I could give it a go before going back to practice. That was five years ago!”

He chuckles and straightens his legs, accidentally making his knee press harder at Caroline’s leg. He immediately apologizes, but she assures him she doesn’t mind.

“And what about you, how did you enter into your … profession?” he asks, not really sure how to express himself.

Caroline is sipping her soda, and lifts one eyebrow in a sarcastic gesture.

“That was nicely put”, she says. “Most people wouldn’t acknowledge what I do as a profession.”

Dwight feels the old awkwardness creeping up on him again.

“I meant no offense”, he mumbles.

But he is rewarded with Caroline’s hand landing on his arm again.

“Of course not, and none taken”, she says. “You see, I have studied literature in Oxford, and I always thought that that was going to be my profession. Who knows, one day I might go back. This other stuff sort of just happened, and I thought, well, why not go along with it, for as long as it’s fun.”

Dwight gives her a long look.

“How far did you get, in your studies, I mean?”

“I have a Master’s degree”, she says, “and I was going to continue, when my Insta-account sort of rocketed in no time, and stuff just started to happen.”

Dwight shakes his head, and she lets out a little giggle.

“I know”, she says, “people don’t expect that of me. Sad, isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry”, he says.

“Don’t be. But I always wondered about you, Dwight. When you talk about your stories and your conferences, you seem self-confident enough. But this is the first time we’ve met that we’ve actually talked. Why is that?”

He exhales, feeling his ears prickling.

“For one thing, there’s no escape when you’re in a plane together”, he says, and they both laugh. “But to be serious, I’ve actually never been very comfortable around girls. I’ve never known how to talk to them, except when I’ve met women as a reporter, of course, for an interview. But that’s different, then I know what the situation is like, and I am prepared, and I just ask my questions and listen to the answers, and then it’s done. This … this type of talking is much harder for me. But I think it’s very nice. I think this conversation with you is one of the nicest I’ve ever had.”

He gives her a quick glance and notices a slight change of colour on her cheek. She looks at her hands holding her cup in her lap.

“Yes”, she says without looking at him, “I think so, too.”


	5. Companions in a New City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caroline and Dwight get to now each other a little.

The days pass quickly in a blur of press conferences, talks, lectures and interviews. The air is cold, and Dwight’s shoes are too thin as he slips over the cobblestone streets of the picturesque old town or hurry along the pavement to be in time for yet another press conference.

Caroline has her own schedule, meeting with celebrities, interviewing dress makers, designers, florists and chefs for the banquet.

They share the same hotel, a few doors between them in the same corridor, and they have made it a habit to have breakfast together. Dwight finds that it is the part of his agenda that he is looking forward to the most every day.

They chit-chat quite easily in the mornings, but the intimacy of the plane has not reappeared.

“What’s on your schedule today?”

“I have an interview with a milliner at half ten, and I’ll do a live streaming tonight outside the Concert Hall when the royalties arrive on the red carpet for the Noble Prize Concert. Nothing to entice a deeply serious man like dr Enys, I gather. And you?”

He chuckles and sips his coffee, a beverage which in this place seems to him more like a potion of cat poison. He grimaces and puts it down again, giving Caroline a glance.

“Actually, I have a pretty quiet day today”, he says. “There is a lecture that I will attend, starting at ten, but then I have the afternoon and the evening free. I was actually thinking that I might pop down to watch the concert arrivals myself.”

Caroline lifts her eyebrows in a studied and surprised way, smiling wryly.

“Why, dr Enys”, she teases, “what of the vanity and futility of it all, will it not bore you to death?”

“Perhaps I have more talents than you think, miss Penvenen”, he grins.

***

It’s 12.30 when Dwight hurries from the lecture back out into the freezing December wind of Stockholm. The sky is grey, but the city is decorated with thousands of brilliant lights; festoons with lamps forming all kinds of beautiful patterns, Christmas decorations, and stars in bright colors in almost every window of every house. He glances at his watch. He really ought to find a quiet place where he could sit down write, and send off his text for tomorrow early enough to let him have an hour or so free to take a stroll in the city.

A tone from his smartphone makes him slow down his pace.

“Free for lunch?”

He calls her back, and a few minutes later they meet up in front of the stairs of the Concert Hall.

“Where would you like to go?”

“I have no idea, I don’t think there is any good place in this God-forgotten little place”, she says in a haughty tone. She pulls her jacket tighter around her shoulders and fold her hands in under her arms. “Why people choose to live here is beyond me.”

“Have you been to the old town yet?” Dwight asks, taking no notice of her arrogant ways. “I have only walked through it once, but I was told there is a little Christmas market there this time of year, and probably some nice restaurants and cafés, too. How long do we have?”

“I have nothing more until tonight, but I need to get back to the hotel in time to change and prepare for the live streaming”, she says. “Will you be there with me?”

“Do you want me to?” he asks, baffled.

She snorts.

“You can be my cameraman, if you want to be of some use to me.”

He laughs.

“I will be happy to oblige, miss Penvenen”, he answers. “Now, it’s a ten-minute walk to the old town from here. Do you have shoes that will permit such a hike?”

“I do”, she says, and then she quickly sticks her hand under his arm. “But I might need you to support me just the same.”

Walking with her like this, her hand under his arm, through the crowded streets, gives Dwight the feeling of being a hot air balloon, his chest rising, expanding, soaring towards the sky. They tease each other, and laugh.

“Look here, this is the Parliament”, he guides her as they pass in between a pair of great stone houses. “Now, we’re almost there. How are your feet doing?”

“Fine. And yours?”

The narrow streets of the Old Town make Caroline’s spirits rise, and she lets Dwight practice as her photographer at once.

“Here, stand over there, and film me as I walk up this alley, touching the walls of both sides with my hands!” she calls.

“I’m happy to be of service to you, madam”, he grins.

The Christmas market is indeed small, with little red wooden stands hunched together in the middle of a square. Caroline is still delighted, and keeps holding up silly things in front of Dwight – “Look, do I not absolutely need a dog brooch like this one?” and “What are these strange little wooden knives for, anyway? Should I buy them for my Uncle for Christmas and see what he makes of them?” and “This necklace would look adorable on Horace!” and “Do you think these gingerbread cookies taste the same as ours?”.

She buys a few things, and Dwight secretly buys the dog brooch when she is looking away, thinking he might find a way to surprise her with it sometime.

Afterwards they find a café nearby, and the steaming warmth down in the ancient stone vault is a welcome change from the icy air outside. Candles glimmer on every table, and there is a noise of voices talking in an unfamiliar language all around them.

“Oh, look, they serve hot chocolate in bowls as big as soup dishes!” Caroline exclaims, and Dwight blushes and tries to hush her up.

They find a table in a corner, and order sandwiches and bowls of hot chocolate.

“I suppose this is not a very healthy lunch”, Dwight sighs, before happily biting into his sandwich.

“You’ll have to jog all the way back to the hotel, then.”

***

They meet in the hotel lobby again. Dwight has finished his article in time, and Caroline has had time to change and prepare for the live streaming. The taxi takes them back to the Concert Hall, where barricades have been placed leading up to the entrance. People are gathering, and Caroline finds a spot where she can watch everything close enough to be able to comment on the outfits of the arriving guests, the royalties and the laureates being the great attraction of the evening.

She instructs Dwight where he must stand, and they take a few photos to make sure the angle is correct. People are crowding around them, and Dwight has to move closer and closer to not be pushed away from his position.

Finally, the guests arrive. The camera is switched on, and Caroline starts her show. She is brilliant, and Dwight can’t help but admiring her air and her presence, as well as her proficient comments on everything that goes on around them. She notices details in the hats of the royal princesses, as well as the shoe labels of the laureates, and she manages to flick in interesting facts about the Nobel Prize and the city. All without a script.

And most of all, she is absolutely gorgeous to look at. With the perfect excuse of being the camera man, Dwight can – indeed, he has to! – look at her all the time, and he studies her with a deep pounding of his heart. Caroline is not dressed up, exactly, but is of course always very aware of what she is wearing, especially when she is broadcasting. There is a quiet sense of luxury around her, of modest elegance; of upper-class. Her confidence and her light tone of voice cut sharply through the screen.

“Or what do you say, Dwight?”

He is suddenly wakened from his analysis and admiration, but he is at once utterly dumb. He tries to shake his head a little at her, without shaking the phone to make the picture wobbly.

“No”, he mimics.

But she just smiles even more widely.

“Yes, I have my colleague Dwight Enys as my helping hand today”, she chatters on. “Come on Dwight, say hello to my viewers!”

She reaches for her phone, firmly stuck on a stand that Dwight is holding, and turns it around. Dwight feels his face turning hot and his mind blank.

“Hello”, he says and clears his throat.

Caroline makes a sweep around the square, where the crowd is starting to clear.

“Thanks, guys, for watching”, Caroline says. “And don’t forget to watch tomorrow again, when Dwight and I will be streaming live from the Banquet. Good night, I love you!”

She turns back the camera towards herself and casts a few kisses towards the screen, before switching it off. Then she turns to Dwight.

“Well, how did I do?” she says. “Did you like it?”

Dwight sticks his hands in his pockets, feeling foolish and embarrassed.

“Why did you do that?” he mumbles. “I wasn’t ready for it. I didn’t want to!”

But Caroline only giggles, and starts to pack down her things.

“Aw, come on, dr Enys”, she teases. “Was it really that bad?”

“I felt so stupid”, he mutters. “And I looked even worse!”

She gives him a glance, laughs again, and then, suddenly and very swiftly places a soft kiss on his cheek.

“There now, dr Enys”, she says. “You see? Kisses are the cure for everything.”


	6. An Extraordinary Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of the Nobel Prize celebration is indeed something extra.

After the constant rush of the day, the most intense of his life, the silence, after the door of the taxi has been closed with a bang, makes his ears ring. He inhales deeply and glances to his side. Her red dress fills the whole seat between them. She is looking out the window into the black and cold night, full of shining decorations and night lights. She must be exhausted, he thinks, and yet she still looks the model of fresh beauty that she is. Slowly, he lets the air out.

It has been a marvelous day, an extraordinary day in every respect, a once in a life time kind of experience. He has spent it with the most beautiful woman ever to tread the Earth, and he ought to be overjoyed. Yet, his heart has been sinking like a stone towards the bottom, starting at the very first moment he saw her in the hotel lobby before they were leaving for the day. Her beauty is the kind that inspires awe and worship, and yes, he is a believer. She is a goddess, and everyone knows what happens to mortals who get entangled with the gods – it never ends well. In the blink of an eye it was obvious to him, what he has known deep down all along but refused to accept; that there is no universe in which a man like himself can have a woman like Caroline. It simply does not happen. He has nothing at all to offer her. To think that his love would be even nearly enough would be a mockery. Somewhere out there in the world, he thinks, there is a man who will be allowed to kiss her. He instinctively hates that man from the depths of his body and soul.

Apart from this insight, it has been a good day. The dress code for the Nobel Prize ceremony and banquet has required them to be dressed up all day, and Caroline has of course played the part with extreme elegance. Being a celebrity herself, her appearance has caught the interest of the media and guests, and Dwight has been the happy by-stander in the shadows. Caroline had persuaded him beforehand to join her in her live streaming for the News Today, and they have made several reports recurrent during the afternoon and evening. In between, Dwight has been able to run up to the press room and write and send off his report for tomorrow’s edition. Their colleagues back home in the news room have been cheering them on, sending likes and comments.

Text messages from Ross have been coming in; “You two look great. Be still, your heart! ;)” And “good luck with cp tonight” and “man you’re glowing”. Dwight has only answered with obnoxious smileys.

And, since Caroline is who she is, she has also managed to get invited to the after-banquet party with dancing in the Golden Room of the medieval-looking castle-like city hall, and she got Dwight in too, as her plus one. Dwight, being lousy at mingling, has watched her from his place by the big golden Mosaic wall that obviously gave the room its name, although he has tried his best at dancing and chatting with laureate’s wives and other international reporters. A team from the BBC has been around, too, and he has had some interesting discussions with them. Once, Caroline came up to him, whispering in his ear: “What do you think of the Swedish princesses? They are famous for their beauty.” And he answered: “What princesses?”. He has truly only seen one princess tonight.

Now, the silence, the quiet humming of the car’s motor and the wheels towards the asphalt, the faint scent of leather seats and gasoline, her perfume, the rustling of the fabric of her red dress, the hammering of his heart, the depth of his breath. It is as if all of it has been a dream, all the laughter and noise, all the work and the stress, all the glances and the swift touches – she is electricity, and the high voltage has sent a jolt through his system at the slightest tap of her fingertips on his arm or the sense of the back of his hand towards hers.

Now, it is over, gone, passed. They have done what they came here to do. The taxi soon will pull up in front of the hotel. The fairy tale will be over.

Caroline watches the lights passing in a blur through the darkness. She is intensely aware of him on the other side of the seat, her heart is pounding. It has been a wonderful week, and they have been getting along so well all the time. She has learnt how to interpret his silences and his shyness, and she has been allowed to see sides of him that intrigue her. There is so much more to Dwight than meets the eye – and what meets the eye is more than enough, especially tonight, dashing as he looks in his suit and tie. His eyes are full of exciting depths and changes, his voice is warm, the few times they have touched each other she has felt a thrill like the one when she was younger and fell in love for the first time. Since then, infatuations have mostly led to disappointment in her life, and anticipation has been replaced with cynicism. It was a long time ago since she last dared to risk giving her heart to someone. She has so often thought about that old quote from Rita Hayworth; “They go to bed with Gilda and wake up with me” – so many men in her life have only wanted what they have seen, or what they have been able to get from her.

Dwight is different. His eyes seem to look beyond the obvious. When they talk, he actually listens to what she says. She has dared to open up a little bit more to him, to go beneath the surface. And there, the treacherous anticipation has lured again, alive and well under her hard cover of attitude. He has spotted it, she knows it; he has seen her. And she has seen him.

If only it were not for this day, the peak of the week, the very reason for their journey. The highlight that made it all tumble and fall again. She has met this type of men before, the kind that are intimidated by her beauty, and she hates it. Sometimes she thinks that she only attracts the wrong kind of men, those who are brave enough to believe that she might notice them; and they are usually the tough and self-absorbed sort. They see her as a conquest, and once they have won her, they are no longer interested. They have reached the treasure chest, but are content with the outside of it.

So, this day has been a grave disappointment to her. She has played her part, and Dwight has played his, but she has felt the distance from him again. “But this, too, is who I am”, she thinks. “If he can’t handle that, we can’t be together!”

Why can’t there ever be a man like Dwight who dares to come close enough? Why must the good ones always shun away and only leave room for the wrong ones? What else can she do to assure him that she is the same, with or without the red dress?

They arrive at the hotel. He hurries to help her out of the car; her dress is magnificent and really ought to have a taxi of its own. Without a word they enter into the lobby and pass by the counter.

In the elevator they are alone, finally. Their eyes meet, and neither of them looks away. A smile grows from within him, reaches his eyes and takes over his mouth. She sees it, and reflects it. He clears his throat.

“Caroline”, he starts.

“Yes?”

He shakes his head, looks at his feet, then back up at her.

“I don’t know how to put it”, he admits. “I have to say something, about your beauty and your brilliance today, but I can’t find anything to say that you haven’t heard a million times already.”

Her smile is growing warmer.

“You know”, she says, “it’s not so much the words as who says them.”

“So, you don’t mind me saying that you are the most beautiful woman on the planet, then?”

She giggles.

“No, I don’t mind. If it’s true or not is another matter, but I don’t mind.”

He nods.

“It is. You are. It’s a scientific truth.”

“If that’s the case, I’ll just have to trust your judgement, dr Enys”, she says.

This is when he cannot take it anymore, he has to kiss her and he reaches out for her hand, takes a step towards her in the cramped space of the elevator – and this is also when the elevator goes “ding!” and stops.

Dwight lets out a sigh of disappointment, but Caroline still smiles as she exits, elegantly lifting her red dress in her fingers. He follows her, then stops, irresolute. She notices, and turns around, in her eyes a question.

Dwight shrugs.

“My room is this way”, he points towards the other end of the hallway.

“And mine is this way.”

“So … are you going to … sleep well after all the hassle of today?” he tries, wanting to kick himself hard somewhere in a painful spot.

Caroline lifts her chin and gives him one of her inscrutable glances.

“I don’t know. Are you?”

Something in that look is just too much, and he stumbles the few steps up to her. He is watching her lips, her lofty look is turning softer, a hint of insecurity in her eyes. Dwight leans forward, slowly but decidedly. The kiss is soft and delicate; he is holding back, she is following him. When they break apart, they stay with their eyes locked a little while longer. Dwight can’t wipe the smile off his face, but Caroline is serious. Then he kisses her again, this time he lets one of his hands find her neck and the other one her waist, as he deepens the kiss, and she lets him. The soft night lights in the corridor make her hair glisten, and time and space cease to exist.

“Now, no doubt you hate me”, he whispers close to her ear when they break apart again.

“Now, no doubt I hate you.”

There is a short pause, his nose is still snuffing at her temple.

“Dr Enys”, she whispers, finally, her voice full of mirth, “I believe you could be of service to me, if you can spare the time. “

“Oh?” he lifts his eyebrows, his anticipation growing.

“I don’t think I can manage to get out of this dress on my own.”

“Madam, I am happy to oblige”, he murmurs.


End file.
